SO! Perhaps you have seen this image of Padawan!Obi-Wan wearing the traditional Jedi Order Padawan Tube Top? Truly, it is glorious! All I hoped for and more!
I promised fic in return for such beauty, so @three-fold-symmetry I have written about Cody discovering a holo of The Outfit. It turned out...far more introspective than I originally intended?
The fic is established relationship Codywan set at some nebulous point after the war. Some implied spice, but safely rated teen. Hope that you enjoy it!
At first, Cody had assumed that Obi-Wan’s quarters on the Negotiator were the only little bit of space dedicated to him in the galaxy. They seemed spacious enough to Cody, who had grown up with little more than a tube of private space, and struggled a bit with the shift to an officer’s quarters.
At first, he had not understood how nat-borns managed to fall asleep, staring up at a ceiling several feet away, with open space on both sides and a mattress that left enough room to roll over.
The first night he spent off Kamino, he’d been concerned that he’d simply roll off the side of his bunk; there was, after all, nothing to prevent it.
Years of life spent sleeping in an enclosed tube, had, apparently, taught his body not to move at all when sleeping, however. He hadn’t fallen out of his bunk that first night, or any of the other nights that followed.
Eventually he’d gotten used to the unnerving exposure of a nat-born bed, even.
And far, far after that, he found he needed to get used to having someone else in his bed with him.
That had come with the discovery that Obi-Wan had other spaces; other areas he lived, when he wasn’t fighting a war. He had quarters at the Temple on Coruscant, a suite of rooms that were his - his alone, at first - and then, as they spiraled closer in the slow dance they’d been doing for nearly four years, Cody’s, too.
Sleeping beside someone else wasn’t particularly difficult. In the field, everyone had bunked down wherever possible, looking for the least-hard bit of ground. He knew how to sleep with someone breathing beside him, making little sounds. Shifting.
But, for some reason, that all felt much different in a still, dark room that smelled faintly of sandalwood and mint. The first night they tried...sleeping, actually sleeping together, he found himself staring up at the far-away ceiling, painfully aware of all the open space around them, and of Obi-Wan - curled on one side - beside him.
Obi-Wan’s weight made the bed dip a little. Gravity and the incline both wanted to pull Cody over into him, from his position flat on his back, hands folded and resting on his chest. It was the same posture he’d slept in all his life.
Suddenly, half of him wanted to roll, too, to form a mirroring curve, mold himself back….
Even thinking about it felt unnerving.
He ended up slipping from the bed, feeling itchy. It was hardly the first time something nat-borns took for granted had left him feeling out of sorts. He spoke about the issue regularly, with a mind healer that he’d begun working with in the aftermath of the war.
She’d given him some suggestions on how to handle the unease, the tangle that came from thinking too long about what he was, what he’d been, the war, and….
All of it.
He padded out to the little ensuite kitchen and, without turning on the lights - he remembered perfectly well where everything was, and, anyway, had better night vision than nat-borns - started bringing some water to a boil for tea.
He didn’t care for tea, especially, but caf would only heighten the anxious itch in his bones. He’d learned that the hard way. So he made tea, the one the mind healer had recommended, and added sweetener to it, and, holding the warm cup in one hand, went out to sit on the couch.
He could hear Obi-Wan breathing from the other room.
Steady and deep, slow. But, then, Obi-Wan had been tired before they went to the bedroom and Cody had, perhaps, worn him out significantly further after they ended up in bed. Force. He was exhausted, too, but…
His eyes felt itchy. He rubbed at them, sipped the tea, and bounced one leg up and down, trying not to think about the ceiling, or the walls, or blaster fire and the smell of blood and--
Cody stood up, slamming back the last of the tea. He’d never learned the skill of eating or drinking slowly, anyway. Linger too long over a meal, and the Seppies were just going to attack, making sure you never got a chance to finish.
That was over, now. The war. All of it. But his body couldn’t seem to forget everything it had learned during those long years.
He set down the cup, and, with an embarrassed little pang - he wasn’t a shiny - gave in and turned the lights up. It helped, being able to see the ceiling and walls clearly, knowing exactly where they were. It made him feel less exposed as he wandered the room.
He’d seen Obi-Wan’s - their? - quarters before, he’d just not...slept over. He brushed his fingers over the back of the couch, glanced at the books neatly stacked on a shelf along one wall, tugged on a hanging tangle of flowers in front of a window.
Eventually, his wanderings took him to a little chest, closed, in one corner. There was no lock on it. He’d seen Obi-Wan open it and rifle through before. He sat beside it and, with a burn of exhaustion in the back of his head, flipped the lid up.
It contained more books. A few old robes. A number of pads and small holoprojectors. He lifted one, absently, and blinked in surprise when it activated in his hand. A tiny image sprung from the projector, blue glow radiating out into the night as he blinked and then - automatic - blinked again.
The image showed a group of four figures, clustered together. Four Jedi, young. He recognized Vos - who was wearing more traditional robes in the image - and Luminara. There was also a Mon Calamari. And, standing wedged amongst them all--
“I think Qui-Gon took that the day Quin made Senior Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, voice softened from sleeping, as Cody jerked his head up. Obi-Wan stood in the doorway to the bedroom, shoulder leaned against the wall, hair all disheveled. Shirtless.
Which was...not much of a departure from the image of him in the holo. He and the Mon Calamari were, for some reason, both wearing little tube tops. The fabric barely covered anything, leaving his shoulders and stomach all exposed, leading to a...tiny skirt around Obi-Wan’s waist and leggings.
“Oh,” Cody said, blinking again. He wished he could think of something else to say, but his tongue seemed to want to stick to the top of his mouth.
“Mm,” Obi-Wan said, sparing him, walking into the room and sinking down onto the couch. “It was a good day. So long ago, now…” He sounded wistful, sitting there, and in the present, he had hair across his chest and down his stomach, and it was coarse and thick and Cody liked the way it felt under his hands and--
In the holo, he’d apparently shaved. He - currently - kept some of his body hair trimmed short, and Cody wondered, with a buzz of sleep and something else, if, in this holo, he’d been shaved everywhere--
“Sorry I woke you,” Cody said, because that seemed like an entirely normal thing to say, and would, hopefully, distract from the fact that he still hadn’t turned off the holo.
Obi-Wan waved a hand through the air, leaning to the side and drawing one leg up onto the couch, because he could never sit with both feet together on the ground, seemed physically incapable of the act. Nat-borns didn’t get disciplined for spreading out, for sitting in less than perfect posture, it was--
He was wearing loose sleeping pants which were, Cody noted, far too short on him. Cody’s sleeping pants, then.
In the holo, he wore tights. Tight tights. It was-- “Why were you wearing this?” Cody asked, against all his better judgment.
Obi-Wan blinked at him; he still looked half asleep. “I enjoyed the tradition,” Obi-Wan said, like that was an answer.
Cody frowned, looked between him and the holo, and said, “What tradition?”
“The outfit,” Obi-Wan said, smothering a brief yawn with one hand. “It’s traditional for Padawans to wear that outfit. When we graduate to Senior Padawans, the garb changes. You can see what Quin is wearing. And then we shift again when we’re Knighted, and finally when we’re made Masters. The Order doesn’t require it, of course. You can see Luminara, there, she always preferred garb closer to the traditions of her culture of origin. But…” He shrugged.
Cody processed all of that for a long beat, staring at the flickering holo, and then said, “So, Commander Tano….?”
“Was wearing traditional garb, yes,” Obi-Wan said, and then gave a sharp little laugh. “Did you think she just...selected that get-up at random?”
Cody cut him a wincing look, and Obi-Wan laughed a little again. “No,” he said, “I think she liked the idea of the tradition, but I’m not surprised she adjusted after a few months. Many Padawans don’t keep up with it once they get in the field. I didn’t, all the time. Not on missions. It’s inconvenient in several ways. But for special occasions, or around the Temple….”
“It wasn’t uncomfortable?” Cody asked, because it had always looked uncomfortable when Commander Tano - Ahsoka, now - wore it. He’d always been marginally unsure how it even...stayed in place, especially with all the jumping and flipping she did.
“It was in the cold,” Obi-Wan said, with a fond little grin. “But the fabric itself was soft enough. And very stretchy and light. Sometimes, it felt like I wasn’t wearing anything, honestly.”
Cody thought about him not wearing anything and felt a little flood of heat into his gut. He got the feeling that Obi-Wan sensed it, because he slouched a little further to the side and planted one foot on the couch, knee bent upwards, looking--
Very much on display.
Cody put the holo away and stood, feeling effectively distracted from the position of the ceiling and the rest of the noise in his head. He said, taking a step towards the couch, “How do you feel about not wearing anything right now?”
“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, grinning at him and willingly sliding to his back against the cushions as Cody joined him on the couch, “that sounds like an excellent plan to me.”